Self Evident Truths
by sulphur-water
Summary: The truth was right before their eyes, so evident that almost anyone could see- anyone but them. Time itself would unmask their eyes. ShinjixHiyori
1. Introduction

He had always been there. Had always stood somewhere nearby, glancing over once in a while to make sure that she was okay.

Of course, that had been what pissed her off the most, and told him so before pulling back a fist and smacking him in the head. She wasn't a goddamn sissy, she had informed him, glaring. And he could keep his obscenely disgusting face with its creepy-ass grin out of her air. To which he had merely rolled his eyes and told her in an infuriating holier-than-thou voice that in no way would he have willingly _wanted_ to look at the violent monkey whose shoe managed to find its way to his face more, perhaps, than he would have liked. The only reason, he added, why he might possibly glance in her general direction was because that Hikifune-taichou had commissioned him to keep a close eye on her wayward lieutenant.

This, of course, was all lies.

He would always protect her, even at the cost of his own life, and Hiyori- being Hiyori- would always clobber him for it after. And perhaps later, when her temper had sufficiently cooled, she acknowledge that, yes, she was maybe grateful for him.

(Not that she would ever say so out loud.)

They had been together through tough and tougher, all the way from Rukongai up. He got promoted to captain; her to lieutenant. They had become part Hollow together, lived in an old abandoned warehouse together, and even trained that stupid red-headed brat of a shinigami together. And somewhere along the way, a friendship developed, so to the point some naïve spectator might have called it actual love.

If anyone told Shinji this, he would scoff and roll his eyes, pull his baggy hat over his eyes and scathingly call the person a dumbass.

If anyone told Hiyori this, she would stare at them in disbelief, slug them in the stomach, and scornfully call the poor abused soul a dumbass.

Which further proved the point that they were- somewhere in the back of their minds- connected.

It was as if they were a pair of children, really- not willing to admit the oh-so-apparent truth of things. But children grow, and in time they understand the things that were always there. All they needed was time.

_A/N: Well okay then! There's the intro for my first fic. 'Course, it doesn't really make much sense to me because I'm writing in a stage of half-delirium, but please review anyways! There'll be more, of course, but first I gotta see feedback to decide to delete it or not. My apologies for swearage. Ta! _

_A/N EDITED: _LOOK! LOOK! I EDITED!_ Marvels never do cease. Just a few quick things for style and readability, nothing big. Thank you to anyone who is reading this you give me warm and fuzzy feelings inside. _


	2. The Beginning

He would remember that fateful day for the rest of his life. Even centuries later, when he was fondly-or not-so-fondly- depending on his mood- reminiscing about the day that sent his world careening into chaos. That singularly unique day when Captain Hikifune had introduced him to her new lieutenant.

Shinji was surprised, of course. Out of all the possible lieutenants that she could have picked, the kindly captain had chosen a tiny little thing- a child, really. The sullen expression on her face failed to summon in him any warm emotions toward the girl, either. She glared up at him, wary. He smiled wanly at her, reaching down to pat her head.

A twitch.

Shinji glanced back up at Hikifune, an expression filled with warning on her face.

A second twitch.

He raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to ask her what was wrong, why she looked as if-

"Ow!" he yelped, yanking his hand back from the girl's head. He stared at the limb, wiggling his fingers. There, stark in contrast to the pale skin, tooth marks were beginning to appear. He glanced down angrily, chastisement on the tip of his tongue, when the bottom of her sandal found its way to his face.

"Hiyori!" Hikifune exclaimed sharply.

Hiyori ignored her. She scowled up at the captain currently clutching his jaw. "I ain't your dog," she snapped, irritation evident. "Dickhead."

Shinji gaped at her. Who did this little upstart think she was talking to?

"How the hell are you training this kid, Hikifune?"

The captain smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, Hirako-san, but you really shouldn't consider her a child. She is a vice-captain, you know."

His jaw dropped further. _He_ was the one who got the lecture? Not that little monkey?

Hiyori pulled a face at him behind Hikifune's back. Shinji glared at her, vexed.

"Damn little fool…" he muttered to himself as captain and lieutenant walked away. He rubbed his jaw irritably as he glared at the receding figures.

_A/N: The second installment of self-evident truths. I'm sorry I didn't post anything for 3 months, too… and only to give you this little excerpt-like thing. I understand if you're angry. The tone of this is different from the first chapter, too. Oh well. I'll send part 3 in soon, I hope._

_Again, my apologies for swearage. Ta._

_A/N EDITED: Hurrah. 'Tis my second edit of the day. Do you know, I've just discovered that this doesn't actually make sense in context of what I wrote in the first chapter. Seeing as it took me four tries to actually upload the first chapter, though, I don't think I'll change it. CHALLENGE: find what doesn't make sense and mock me for it. Or just find it, I'm not really into masochism. _


	3. Chapter 3

The train raced pass in the dark of the night, snatches of scenes playing in milliseconds as Hiyori watched the world from her perch on high. A softly glowing restaurant-gone. An abandoned school-gone. A couple walking down a deserted avenue-gone.

Another lifetime-gone.

She traced the window listlessly, gazing sadly out the window. It was a muddled day. A dry, puddly, muddled, mushy day. Her finger squeaked against the window as she pulled it down into her lap. It had been sixty-seven years since she left Seireitei. Since she was thrown out for someone else's crime.

A flick to her forehead. She snapped her head up crossly, scowling at the one who dared to disturb her, much less _flick_ her. A lopsided grin greeted her. Shinji. Of course.

"Dumbass." An insult, spoken apathetically out of sheer force of habit. She looked back down.

Another flick. This time she whacked him back. "'the hell, baldy?" Irritation seeped through. "Whaddaya want?"

"Almost our stop, ya idiot. Get your butt off the goddamn seat."

"You get your own butt off."

Shinji sighed. "Whatever. Get left behind, for all I care."

She glowered at him and grudgingly stood. The train slid, screeching, to a shaky halt. It quivered as they got off, eager to resume its journey north. The doors slid shut. All at once, an enormous weight descended upon her.

"Shinji," she muttered. "I'm tired."

He glanced down at her, surprised, then glanced back up. "Yeah," he said. He had understood, at least. "I know. Everyone is."

"Do they even care about us anymore?" She wasn't asking of the other Vizards.

Shinji gazed once more at her face and tilted his own up to the chilly pre-dawn sky. He paused, then flung his arms out. "Who cares if they care? Who cares about them at all, anymore, anyways? Who gives a shit? The world is ours for the taking."

She finally looked up. "Yeah," she murmured. They began to walk towards the warehouse. She stopped abruptly.

He swiveled his head back, surprised. She slugged him, once. Hard.

"What the hell was that for?" he yelped.

"The world is ours for the taking? What kinda crap you spouting? Ya got worms for brains?"

"Says the kid who was depressed a minute before."

She whacked him this time.

"Dammit, Hiyori, what was that for?"

A hand slipped into his. He looked down to find a small face turned resolutely forward.

"Let's go home," she said. She didn't mean Soul Society.

_A/N: Well, well. It's been a while… Sorry._

_Really sorry._

_School got in the way and I got distracted on the road of life._

_Feel free to flame. I'll know someone's out there._

…

_A/N EDIT: Ah. I just realized I had labelled this story "romance." Yet I haven't written any. Oops. _


	4. Chapter 4

She was impulsive- he knew that.

She loved the Vizards like family- he knew that too.

She would have died to save anyone of them- of course he knew that.

But why, why then hadn't he seen it coming? How couldn't he have seen it?

"_He's baiting you! Don't fall for it!"_

"_-What do you have to be afraid of? You all already died on that night 100 years ago."_

He imagined it from her eyes, that scene, over and over and over again. Imagined the red mist slowly, slowly rising until it formed a wall.

A wall, blinding her.

A wall, closing her eyes from sense, from reason.

A wall that killed her.

It had been so quick. A shout, a charge-then. Cold steel sliding. Slicing her neatly in two.

"_One up, and one down."_

That bastard, Gin.

"_Hiyori!"_

He had clutched her, knuckles ghostly white.

_Hiyori, Hiyori_, over and over in his mind. Played over and over, even as he realized he was shouting it out.

"_S-sorry, Shinji," _her face, tight and wan and drawn with pain. The face he knew so well. _"I jus' couldn't take it."_

He was afraid for her.

"_Hachi!"_

Ichigo-where are you? Hurry up, you goddamn sonuvabitch-she's dying.

He swallowed, looked up with half-crazed eyes.

_She's dying._

He glanced back down at her.

First love, last love,

Forever-and-ever only love.

_Aizen._

Strain lines, unfocused eyes.

_Watch out._

He was desperate, and she was dead.

A/N: If Kubo kills Hiyori or Hinamori, I'll stop reading Bleach. That's all.

A/N EDIT: I have nothing to say. Except that I'm not sure if the couplet "first love…" thing is mine. If you've seen it elsewhere, please tell me where because this is irritating. And I'll remove it, because PLAGIARIZING IS BAD. Yep. That's all.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a singularly unlovely sort of day—ash-grey clouds hovering, dissatisfied, streams of gloomy light trickling through the minute separations.

They laid together in that field outside the walls of Seireitei, head-to-head, arms spread wide; separate, except for the barest few fibers of hair.

"Someone took a piss up there, huh?" Shinji's voice interrupted the silence.

"Crappy day," Hiyori mumbled vaguely in assent.

"Hey," Shinji rolled over onto his elbow. "If we're shinigami, and this is Soul Society, why is there a sky?"

Hiyori shrugged. "Has to be. What other sky-ish thing would you have?"

He flipped back over. "Dunno. Just funny that there's something that's above even us."

She shrugged again. "We're not gods, Shinji, even if we damn well act like it sometimes."

"No, not gods." He snorted. "Never met a god in Seireitei."

He reached up to tug one of her pigtails. "I'm hungry."

She smacked his hand away. "Get yourself something to eat, Baldy." A grumble sounded from the vicinity of her own fickle organ. He snickered.

"You're hungry, too."

"Shut up."

"Come on," he grunted, heaving himself to his feet. "I'll buy you some dango. Get up."

She shot him an acrid glare. "Make me."

He cocked his head to one side, considering. "Alright then." With a quiet _oof_ of effort, he hefted her over his shoulder.

"Ow! What the fuck are you doing, Baldy? This isn't dignified!"

He snorted. "Shut up. You want something to eat or not?"

"At least a piggy back ride. Do I look like a sack?" She muttered, clambering onto his back.

"Two, please," Shinji said politely to the odango seller they had been approaching during the squabble, ignoring her comment.

Two crinkled eyes looked kindly upon them and handed a sweet to either. As Shinji began reaching for his back pocket, the peddler politely demurred.

"Don't worry," she said cheerily. "No charge for the shinigami and his date."

Hiyori flushed; Shinji spoke steadily despite the pink rising to his ears.

"No, ma'am, she's not my—I mean to say—"

The woman smiled politely, disbelievingly and waved them away.

The whole way back, a muffled snickering sounded from his left shoulder.

_A/N: So I'll just write flashbacks until I am otherwise convinced that the Vizards are not dead. Sorry, this wasn't my best, but I tried._


	6. Chapter 6

In the summer, sometimes, when it was warm and the cicadas had begun their reedy humming, the ragtag group of outcasts would gravitate towards the outdoors, the soft whir of far away roads, and the inky sky.

And there on the roof they lay in some semblance of a circle around a warm orange fire that Hachi tended meticulously, growing sleepier as the sharper sounds of the world faded to a dull murmur.

Sometimes, when the quiet chatter of the others was drowned by the crackle of the blaze—they were sitting close, of course, it being too late for any formalities of aggression—Shinji would nod off, head dipping lower and lower until it came to rest in the crook of her neck. She would stiffen at first, startled and almost balling her fist until—after a quick glance and the others and the fire that obscured the pair—Hiyori would allow herself to rest her head on his.

The others looked on indulgently, maintaining the streams of their conversation; all too aware that any sudden change would spook the two back into their roles as adversaries.

Because no matter the pretenses they put on, no matter the insults and punches, he was her rock—albeit, an arrogant, spindly rock—and she was the one thing for which he would go to great lengths to shelter and from whom he would go to even greater lengths to hide his protectiveness.

It was how they were—no kisses, no flamboyant displays of affection.

But it was pure, him and her, and the rest didn't matter.

_Fin_

A/N: Hey. It's been a while. Sorry bout that.

This is the end. A little dissatisfying, I know, but hey, that's always how I pictured them.

Thanks for reading this and for your lovely comments. They made my day

I'll probably write something new this summer, but likely not about Bleach. (Sorry, I just think it should have gone out with a bang sometime after the Aizen arc. Bakuman influence, anyone?)

Bye for now.


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